Alternations
by The Mutinous Pigeon
Summary: What if a seventeen year old Tom Marvolo Riddle is summoned to a time 53 years after his own? And by an unsuspecting individual? CURRENTLY ON HIATUS.
1. An Involuntary Introduction

**Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to, I DO NOT own Harry Potter or any of its characters. They belong to the spectacular JK Rowling**

**Chapter 1- An Involuntary Introduction**

**Tom's POV**

Tom Riddle wandered along the dark halls of the third floor corridor on Prefect Duty. _Why did I ever agree on being a Prefect? Or even Head Boy for that matter. I haven't had a decent night's rest since 5__th__ year- _he thought, gloomily. A quiet bustling sounded within the girl's bathroom. With an exasperated sigh, Tom walked towards the ruckus and stopped in front of the destination. He hesitantly knocked several times before speaking.

"Myrtle?"

*sob*"Yes?"

"Myrtle, we've been through this more times than necessary. This area is out of bounds at night. Return to your dormitory."

A red faced, puffy eyed Myrtle opened the door and looked up at Tom.

"But they keep teasing me. They make fun of my glasses, the girls in Ravenclaw."

_What do I say? _He thought. Tom had never been good at this 'empathy', 'sympathy' or anything of that nature.

"Don't listen to them. They're just jealous. Your glasses are …erm…. they make you look very pretty."

"Really, Tom? Thank you, you are so nice!"

She exclaimed, hugging him whilst Tom tried his very best to suppress his grimace before Myrtle skipped off with a wide smile on her face and a spring to her step. Tom swallowed the bile rising up his throat and resisted the urge to gag.

Honestly, why _did _he agree to put up with this on a nightly basis?

He cast a cleaning charm upon his robes to sanitise the mudblood filth in which he had come into unfortunate contact with.

As Tom continued stalking the halls, he felt a light tug in his navel. Disregarding the sensation, he went back to his activity until a more demanding tug was felt.

He turned around swiftly, wand in hand, and eyed for the offender, except there was no one to be seen.

"Who dares to interfere with me? Head boy and Prefect? Come out, show yourselves," Riddle inquired, furiously, only to be answered by complete silence.

After one more suspicious glance, he turned back and resumed patrolling the corridor, still fuming.

All of a sudden Tom crumpled onto the floor, hands clutching his abdomen as an insistent, sharp tug grasped at his navel, crushing his intestines (at least it felt that way).

The pain was unbearable and Tom tried his absolute best to contain his cries of agony, not wanting anybody to see a model student in this broken state.

Without any forewarning, the teenager was pulled by an almighty force and was dragged into oblivion.

**Harry's POV**

Harry was franticly swishing his wand around, trying to get a reaction. Failing miserably, he sighed and turned to his bushy haired friend in desperate hope for assistance.

"Hermione, please help me"

"Harry, you have to achieve this on your own. I have been too lenient with you and Ronald. I let you copy my notes for _everything! _Can't you do something yourself for once!? You can't expect everything to appear right in front of you on a silver platter, now do you?!" Hermione concluded, panting slightly.

Ron and Harry stared, dumbfounded, at their raging companion. After a short, awkward silence, Hermione inhaled deeply and glanced at her two terrified friends, her expression softer.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to shout. Just _please _don't pester me this lesson as this is probably the first time I couldn't manage a spell in charms." She stated, blushing slightly from embarrassment.

"It's alright Hermione, you don't have to be good at everything. And besides, what is the actual point of this lesson? Why do we need to learn how to summon a person. It seems quite unnecessary to me," huffed Harry. "We really should get back to work."

Just at that moment, Professor Flitwick walked towards them.

"Why don't I see anyone working?" he inquired inquisitively.

"We were just having trouble performing the spell, sir," Ron replied.

"Nonsense! You three are in fifth year and we've practiced for weeks" The short professor leaned in closer to the trio, looking around cautiously before adding "Even _Neville Longbottom_ has succeeded with casting this spell". He gestured to Neville who indeed succeeded with the charm. The three tried to stifle their giggles as they saw his Grandma, whom he had summoned, fussing with his hair and pinching his cheeks.

"Just try again. I'm sure you'll accomplish this task eventually but until then I wi-"

"AAAAHHHHH!"

The whole class whipped their heads back to the source of the noise. It seemed as though Seamus Finnigan had convened none other than Rumbleroar, a talking lion and headmaster of the wizarding school, Pigfarts. The bloody idiot.

"Oh dear, not again. I guess Mr Finnigan requires my presence. I'll check on you later," the Head of Ravenclaw said before walking over to the student in need.

"What did he mean by 'not again'?" Ron asked, puzzled. Lavender Brown leaned in and joined the conversation.

"I heard Malfoy summon him last lesson. He was complaining about needing a rocket ship or something or other," she equipped, chirpily.

"Absolute twats. They should know better than to summon a headmaster. Especially one from another planet!" Hermione tutted, disbelievingly. "We should get back to work. There are only fifteen minutes 'til the end of this period, and I do _not _want to spend yet another lesson on this task."

Lavender left the trio to go back to her friends and the remaining three returned to their assigned task hesitantly. Hermione and Harry were muttering to themselves and waving their wands around. Harry was rewarded with a spark emitting the holly and phoenix feather stick, but his moment of pride deflated quickly upon realising that his attempt didn't work out. Meanwhile a very bored Ronald Weasley was contemplating different plans and strategies in order for the trio to achieve the set duty in an easier way. Just then, the boy's eyes lit up as he assembled a master plan.

"Hey harry?" Ron asked with a mischievous grin.

"Hm?" Answered harry without turning to the redhead.

"I've got a brilliant idea"

"Will it get us killed?"

"Nah nah. What if we asked to summon something but without… specifying it precisely?" He asked hopefully.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry turned to his friend. "Give an example."

"Like, instead of saying something direct, such as 'Molly Weasley' or 'Albus Dumbledore', we could say 'someone caring' or 'someone wise'. D'you get what I mean?

"Yes, but what's the point of doing that? We could end up with snake-face in front of us. Or even worse_, Umbridge_," Harry stated with a shudder.

"Come on. _Please? _It'd be fun. Besides, it would certainly make this lesson a lot more interesting," Ron pleaded desperately.

"Fine, fine! I still think it's a stupid and reckless idea, but I don't think I could stand repeating this lesson again."

"Okay, great! I'll go first!"

Ron held up his wand in front of him and uttered the incantation before adding "I require somebody strong."

After a light 'pop' and a flash of light, a dumbfounded Gregory Goyle appeared in front of the spell caster. The ape-like boy scratched his head perplexedly. The act caused an avalanche of dandruff to cascade onto a nearby bench.

"How did I get here?"He asked, looking around the room. "I swear I was right over there," He added, pointing to the other side of the room where Malfoy and Crabbe were scrambling around looking for their companion.

"Just. Leave," Ron sighed exasperatedly.

Goyle turned around absently and walked snail-paced to his gang. Harry was chuckling beside Ron.

"He's a bit slow, that one," the brunette said with a small smirk on his face.

"What's up with him? He looked like a zombie,"

"Doesn't he always?" The two boys sniggered before gathering themselves.

"Well it's your turn, mate" The freckled teenager announced.

Harry Potter took a deep breath and focused on the space in front of him. He spoke the words of the incantation, making sure he pronounces every word correctly. "Bring forth a person whom I do not expect".

His wand jerked at an awkward angle and a bright spark was discharged from the end of it making a few nearby classmates turn to the source of light. The boy repeated the process a second time, thrusting his wand with increased velocity, but was only rewarded with the previous outcome.

Harry sighed in frustration and turned to his two friends.

"It's not working," he muttered. His shoulders slumped in humiliation as he watched the remainder of the class accomplishing the charm.

Hermione smiled encouragingly. "You got a pretty strong reaction. Just try one more time; I'm sure you'll get it right." Next to her, Ron and a few other students nodded in agreement.

All eyes were on him now and he desperately wanted them all to turn away. The prying eyes would surely make it difficult to focus and it would be a nightmare if he failed, since everyone was here to witness it.

Harry eyed the patch of vacant ground ahead of him with a fierce determination. He chanted the words precisely and thrust his wand in a swift, circular motion and waited. Nothing happened. The teenager stared at the ground and clenched his fists. _I am a failure. It was just one simple spell! Maybe Uncle Vernon was right; maybe I am just a worthless, usel-_

The negative thoughts were cut off as something, or rather, someone, landed on an unsuspecting Harry with a thud.


	2. Overhearing Conversations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the series. They all belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 2- Overhearing Conversations**

Everything was blurry, out of focus. Tom rubbed his eyes in attempt to clear his vision, but it was useless_. Was this someone's idea of a practical joke? Does this happen to be amusing to them?_ Raw fury bubbled in his chest.

"Hello?" A distant voice asked. The sound was too loud. It made his head swim.

Tom snapped his head up, regretting the action immediately as it worsened the powerful throbbing in his head. He sought the hazy figures and tried to identify each one, but it was not use. He heard someone shriek and tried to cover his ears, but found that he was immobile.

"Oh my Godric! Is that who I think it is?" Another voice asked, this one laced with fear and disbelief.

The figure leaned in to inspect Tom closer. He tried his best to glare at the person infiltrating his personal space. The best he could muster was a slight narrowing in his eyes, but it was better than nothing. The figure gasped and stumbled backwards and turned to face another person.

"Ron, you idiot! If I didn't comply with your stupid idea than this wouldn't have happened!"

"I'm sorry for whatever I did but I'm confused. Who is this guy?"

All the fuzzy figures turned to the person in front of him. A short body walked over to Tom and placed a hand on his forehead. Tom had the urge to lash out, but he knew that it wouldn't benefit his aching body in any way.

"Oh dear, this is worse than I thought" a high pitched voice stated. _Wait! I know this voice from somewhere!_

"Potter, Weasley. Would you mind taking him to the infirmary?" The familiar voice continued.

"Yes Professor Flitwick" The two boys chimed in unison.

_Ah, yes. Professor Fitwick, the Charms Professor. At least I'm still on Hogwarts grounds. _

He felt two pairs of arms trying to lift him up. He flinched at the sudden human contact, however the students barely noticed and continued with their duty. Tom tried asking them to just levitate him to the hospital wing but all that came out of his mouth was an incoherent gurgle. This was probably the most humiliated he had ever felt, being carried- _carried_\- like some toddler by none other than a _Weasley _and a _Potter. _And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it!

He tried to settle his temper by visualizing the gruesome deaths of Septimus (?) Weasley and Charlus (?) Potter. He smirked at the thought. That will teach them to ever degrade Tom Marvolo Riddle to this extent!

"So Harry"- _What? Harry?_-"Why do you look so worried? Is this one of Dudley's gang members or something? If it is, I will gladly kick his arse to New Zealand for you."

_Don't you DARE!_

"Ha, I wish. No. Remember in second year? TM Riddle's diary?"-_How do they know about my diary! They __**will **__be sorry when I escape this living Hell._

"Yeah?"

"And remember how I told you that Riddle's memory that possessed Ginny tried to kill us both?"-_What in Salazar's name are they talking about?_

"When you were fighting the Basilisk in the Chamber?"_\- How did they find the chamber of secrets? And did he just say 'fighting the Basilisk'? What utter nonsense. He would be dead if he was foolish enough to challenge a Basilisk!_

_"_Uh-hu"

"That's him"

Tom heard the Weasley hyperventilate. He was suddenly glad that he couldn't move or talk as this conversation was becoming _very _interesting and he wouldn't want to blow his cover by detonating in an outburst of manic laughter.

"T-Th- That's VOLDEMORT!?"

_Couldn't they quiet down a little! My head feels like it's about to explode. _

It took a few moments to process what he just heard.

_How the bloody Hades do they know about VOLDEMORT! Only me and my closest _companions (he wouldn't dare call them his 'friends' *shiver*) _know about this!_

"I believe so."

"And you aren't scared!?"

"Not really. You forgot that I had a one on one duel with him last year. This vulnerable, fetus Voldie won't do us much trouble."_ What did he just call me!?_

The Weasley let out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, when you look at it that way, it doesn't seem so bad."

A strained silence was delivered before this 'Harry Potter' kid was kind enough to break it.

"Sorry, Ron, for lashing out in class. It isn't everyday that you summon the most dangerous wizard of all time unexpectedly."

"It's alright, mate. We're here, finally! I don't know how much longer I can stand to be in contact with such a heartless psychopath. I feel contaminated already!"

"I don't think he has killed anyone yet. At least I hope he hasn't. But I see what you mean" _Well I would of if you weren't stupid enough to summon me. You ruined my plan to set the Basilisk out on the Mudloods! Idiots._

Tom heard a door open and once entered, felt a completely different atmosphere than the area outside the door. A stern, womanly figure came into view and strutted over to the three boys.

"Mr Potter, Weasley, I hope you haven't gotten yourselves injured again," she huffed, clearly disapprovingly.

"No, no, we're fine, Miss. This guy, on the other hand, doesn't look too good" One of the boys said, lifting him slightly higher.

"Oh, dear me. Could this really be…?"

"Yes, at least I think it's him."

"How did he get here?"

"A mishap in charms. I don't think he'll be a threat though. He seems to be unconscious by the looks of things." _Ha! Little do they know that I'm listening to every word they're saying._

He felt himself being laid down on a firm, but strangely comfortable, hospital bed.

"Very well boys. Now off you go! Out, Out!"

The nurse, Madam Pomfrey as I recall, sat down next to him and arranged several potions on the bedside table.

"How could this have happened?" The lady muttered. She leaned in closer to the stationary body and cleared her throat.

"I know you're awake Tom, but I'll leave you be. Just make sure you drink all the potions once you're able to move. I'll come back and check on you in an hour or two," Pomfrey stated before standing up and leaving the area, closing the curtains around Tom's bed on her way out.

Tom was left to stare and the blurry shapes around the room. He closed his eyes and pondered about the strange happenings that this day had to offer before relaxing and clearing his head from all the confusing thoughts. He soon fell into a fitful sleep and dreamt about fuzzy figures, fearful voices and a volatile basilisk.

* * *

**A/N-** **I just realised that Myrtle should have been dead in Tom's seventh year. Who cares. :) Tom has not made any Horcruxes (yet) in this. Anyways, I was just wondering, should this be a slash fic or not? Thanks for reading- I hope you like it :)**


	3. Harry Potter

**Disclaimer- Do I really need to put one on every single chapter? I don't own Harry Potter and I never will. All rights belong to the brilliant JK Rowling.**

**A/N- The chapter has been rewritten as I was very unhappy with it. Tom and Harry got along WAY too easily.**

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**Chapter 3- Harry Potter**

The Head Boy awoke to the sound of creaking furniture. Tom wondered whether he had the ability to move and tested wiggling his toes. Surprised to notice that he could move again, Tom sat up on his bed and craned his neck to view the infirmary. Although he had rarely ever entered the particular area, he knew something was different. First of all, the previously beige walls and colourful furnishings have been replaced with off white and other bland colours. Also, the usual easy-to-access antique cupboards filled with various potions and potion ingredients were altered to several simple rectangular cupboards which were quite heavily warded and the objects within have been concealed from any outside observer. Everything just looked so painfully... plain. So uniform and unimaginative. His thoughts were cut off when a person nearby cleared their throat.

Tom turned his head to find a boy, around the age of fourteen by the looks of it, sitting on the bed beside his. Said boy fidgeted uncomfortably before mumbling something incoherent.

"Sorry, can you please repeat that?"

The boy shifted once again and repeated what he had said, avoiding eye contact with the older student.

"Madam Pomfrey told me to t-talk to you if you need any help. I'm H-Harry Potter, by the way."

Tom eyed the teenager opposite him. He looked so much like Charlus Potter; from the black shaggy hair to the same round glasses. It was actually quite unnerving. The only difference from this 'Harry Potter' and Charlus, other than age, were his eyes. Unlike Charlus' dull hazel orbs, they shone like radiant emeralds. Like the Avada Kadavra curse. Tom realised he had been staring for an extensive amount of time and forced himself to snap out of it. He didn't want to seem creepy, no matter how captivating the boy's eyes were. Remembering the events that took place yesterday, the seventh year decided to ask a question regarding them.

"You're the one that carried me here yesterday, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess"

"Well, who was- Never mind that. Why would I need any help? I'm certain I've been at Hogwarts longer than you have."

Harry Potter twiddled his thumbs before answering. He didn't even look up. "I-In case things have... _changed."_

_"_What do you mean by changed?"

"Um... Wel what- Tell me what year it is."

"1943," Tom answered simply, but his facial expression projected his incredulity.

"It isn't"

"What do you mean it isn't?"

"I mean it's September, 1995"

Tom's heart stopped. His breathing faltered. He stared at Harry, hoping that he would claim that he was joking. He wished that Abraxas or maybe even Lestrange would jump into the room, laughing, and celebrate his success in making _The _Tom Riddle- Head Boy, Prefect and ingenious Know It All- utterly speechless. Of course, that didn't happen. He pulled himself together and tried his absolute best to appear nonchalant. Or at least as nonchalant as he could muster. _I am an adapter. If an obstacle is placed on my path, I manoeuvre myself around it._

"I'm in the future?"

"Your future, my present time"

"And how did I get here, exactly?"

Harry's blush started from his neck and made its way to the rest of his face, turning into a magnificent shade of crimson. He buried his head in his hands in what looked like embarrassment.

"I-I accidentally s-summoned you," the Gryffindor stuttered quickly.

"Summoned me? How can you accidentally summon someone?"

"M-my friend h-had the sagacious idea to- to summon someone indirectly"

"And you followed on that foolish plan?"

Harry blushed even harder. The poor boy looked as though he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Potter nodded hesitantly without removing his hands from his face. Tom, as strange as this was, felt _sorry _for the boy. He wanted to comfort him but immediately thought against it.

"Harry, remove your hands from your face. I'm fairly certain that your neck is capable of providing enough support to hold up your head without any assistance."

Harry did as he was told and silently looked up at Tom.

_Wow he really does look like a carbon copy of Charlus Potter._

"Do you happen to know who Charlus Potter is?" The older teen asked.

"Yes, he is my grandfather. Why do you ask?"

"You greatly resemble him"

"Really? I've never seen him before"

"Oh... is he...?" Tom didn't like where this conversation was going. Sure, he could relate with losing a loved one, but he had no clue how to sympathise with others.

"Yeah, h-he's dead"

"But even so, wouldn't your parents have any pictures of him?"

Harry's eyes started to water, but he blinked them away before they leaked out. Unfortunately Tom noticed this as well.

"I-I've never seen them either. Well at least n-not since I was a baby," his voice sounded croaky and choked up.

Riddle, being the sadist that he was, was thirsty for more information. He didn't know why, but ever since he could remember he had enjoyed digging into people's personal lives, educating himself about their deepest thoughts and fears. He took pleasure in the power he held over his victims using blackmail and other methods determined on how he used the information he had gathered from them.

"What happened to your parents?"

The smaller teen looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. He inhaled deeply before speaking.

"Wait one moment"

Harry Potter proceeded to climb off his bed and left the Slytherin Prefect alone in the Hospital Wing with no explanation, which Tom thought was rather rude. While looking around his surroundings once again, he noticed several vials of potions on his bed-side table. _How could've I forgotten? Madam Pomfrey wanted me to drink these as soon as I have woken up._

Tom Riddle held one to his nose and grimaced at the odour it produced. He quickly downed the potion and nearly gagged at the revolting taste and texture of the substance. _What on Earth do they put in this stuff? Is it even edible? _Deciding that he'd rather not know, he drank the remaining concoctions while holding his nose, hoping that it will at least dampen the disgusting taste. It didn't.

Resisting the urge to vomit, Tom grabbed a goblet of water and gulped greedily, attempting to dilute the after taste that lingered in his mouth. Just then, Harry returned to the room and handed over a book before walking back out. Tom wiped the thin coating of dust from the cover of the book and nearly dropped it when he read the title of it.

**'Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World and How he Defeated the Dark Lord'**

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**A/N- Do you think this chapter is better? I apologise if you liked the other one better, but I think that Tom and Harry acted too casually towards each other, considering that they have never met before and that they were meant to be arch nemeses. If you have any suggestions as to what should happen in this fanfiction, feel free to tell me. And also, if you have any tips on how I could improve my writing tell me. Thank you and I hope you like this chapter.**


	4. Questions

**Disclaimer- Harry Potter and all of its characters, places and other things that I don't feel like mentioning belong to JK Rowling, not me.**

* * *

**Chapter 4- Questions**

Interacting with Tom had been far more difficult than he had first thought.

Harry thought that it would be easy to talk to someone that you have seen in such a vulnerable state, but he couldn't have been more wrong. When he saw Tom, he saw the cold, narcissistic entity he had seen in his second year. He saw Tom's cruel, dark eyes boring into his like bottomless pits. He heard his mocking, drawling voice, his high, manic laughter. He also saw Voldemort- What Tom had yet to become- sneering cruelly. Disposing Cedric's body like he was nothing but a worthless rag doll. The man (if you could call it that) who only a few months ago made Harry feel helpless; useless. Made him an unwilling sacrifice for the grand re-bodying of the monster.

The worst thing of all, though, was that he _knew _that the Tom he had just met wasn't the Tom he saw in the diary; neither was he the dehumanised psychopath he had assisted in returning from the dead. This Tom was more or less human. Maybe not the kindest of humans, but still, he _was_ human. Just an ambitious teenager with endless opportunities in life. Which means that he_ chose_ to turn out the way he did. And_ that_ was what made the whole ordeal as unnerving as it was.

But to _cry_ in front of Tom? To _stutter _in his presence as though he were impersonating Quirrel? He must have looked absolutely pathetic. He wasn't even game enough to explain who he was and the story of what had happened to himself and Tom's future self. He was so cowardly- not something a Gyffindor should be- that he just handed him a book. A_ book_. A book that probably exaggerated the whole event of Halloween 1981. One that would portray Harry as a selfless hero and Voldemort the deranged, weak snake hybrid that lost against an infant.

Maybe it was for the better. Maybe Tom would see what he had become and be repulsed. And maybe, just maybe, he can be changed for the better. Harry had seen Tom's childhood in Dumbledore's pensieve not even a week earlier. Tom and himself had lived through a difficult childhood. They were both friendless, taunted and even feared. The only difference was that whilst Tom relished the respect and fear that was directed towards him, Harry discouraged it, finding comfort in being treated as a normal human being rather than a freak or a hero. The strange thing was that this person, so alike to the green eyed teen, yet so different, had somehow managed to make his way to Harry, slapping time and physics in the face while he was at it. Wait, no, scratch that. Magic in general tended to do that.

But there must be a reason. There must be a decent explanation as to why Tom -**Tom Freaking Marvolo Riddle- **of ALL people, was summoned before him. He had asked for someone he did not expect, didn't he? He'd have thought maybe someone in a different year such as Cho Chang or George/Fred (who could tell the difference anyway?) or maybe even a teacher to appear in front of him. But maybe that's just it. Maybe the reason why Tom had appeared was because his mind kept contradicting itself as to what it had anticipated. He would have expected someone from _Hogwarts_, someone from _this current era_ to be summoned, but he had asked for a person he _didn't _ expect. Merlin, this was confusing. Harry needed a butterbeer. And fast.

The fifth year made his way towards the kitchens, colliding with people and various objects in the process. He barely noticed. Harry's brain hurt from all this thinking and the only things on his mind were his destination and the taste of warm butterbeer against his parched mouth.

He continued to stagger through the long halls of Hogwarts like a piteous drunk, nudging passer bys out of the way. His mind only snapped out of its haze when he felt a firm grip on his shoulders. Harry struggled against the offender, managing to shake them off, only to be restricted once more by another pair of arms. He didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

"Harry James Potter. Look up at me this instant," the voice directed.

Harry looked up at Madam Pomfrey,a sheepish blush lightly colouring his cheeks.

"Where do you think you're going? I ask you the simple task of assisting Tom with any of his inquiries and to watch over him for the time being. Never did I ask you to wander around the school and abandon your duties. I thought better of you."

"Sorry, Miss. I was heading for the kitchens," Harry stated truthfully.

"And your reason? You left Tom, the one person I told you to keep an eye on, without a reasonable explanation."

"Butterbeer."

"Butterbeer? And you think that is a sufficient excuse?" the woman inquired, looking more than a little bewildered.

Harry shrugged and awkwardly shifted from one foot to another, embarrassed that he was being told off by the school nurse in the middle of a crowded corridor. A few people around them stopped to watch the commotion enfold before them. Whispers were sounded throughout the area; some confused whilst others, such as a distinguishable Malfoy, were throwing around ridiculing comments.

"Not only that, but Tom had several queries he wished to ask you, but you, the one person I nominated for this task, were not present to answer them for him. I am most disappointed in you," Pomfrey continued.

Harry goggled at her. The matron had never gotten _this _indignant. Ever. And this is the woman who remained calm when Harry had thrown out all his medicinal potions he was assigned to drink in a temper tantrum two years ago. Well, you couldn't blame him; those potions were nasty.

"I'm leaving Tom with you now. You'd better not think about leaving him again."

With that, Madam Pomfrey flounced off, leaving behind a baffled Harry Potter with the company of a smirking Tom Riddle. Completely ignoring his nerves, the shorter boy glared at Tom for his obvious amusement towards the scene. The two stayed in an awkward silence, boring the crowed into dissipation, before Harry found the courage to break the ice.

"So, what was it that you wanted?"

Tom looked imperceptibly shocked at the other's new found confidence. "Answers. I have a few questions that I wish to be answered. By you."

"All right, then. Ask away."

"Not here," Tom said. "Would you rather go back to the infirmary or Hogsmeade? We could discuss this in The Three Broomsticks, if you like. It seems as though you really need a butter beer right now."

"Oh, okay. That would be great...," Though Harry's face stated otherwise. He really didn't want to be anywhere alone with Tom, but it looked like he didn't have a choice.

"What about the kitchens?"

"I'd prefer to speak to you in private. The house elves won't provide us with any seclusion."

Harry nodded, though he still looked quite chary.

"There's no need to be wary. I mean you no harm." Tom stopped for a moment before continuing. "We should get going, then. We cannot apparate within Hogwarts, neither can we floo in from the Headmaster's office. That means we must exit the school first to find a place in which we can apparate from."

Before Harry could stop himself, he blurted out something he really shouldn't have. "No need! There's a secret passageway from here to Honeydukes."

It took Harry a moment to process what he had just said. _Damn it! Did I really just reveal a secret passageway to a future murderer? _Harry mentally facepalmed. Toms face lit up a fraction and his eyes showed his increasing curiosity.

"Really? Can you show me?"

* * *

A few minutes had found them beside the one- eyed witch statue, even though Harry's conscience had been practically screaming at him not to.

Harry tapped his wand against the jagged surface and said "Dissendium." The statue opened and revealed a small tunnel, just big enough to fit one person. Tom looked at Harry, awaiting his next instruction.

"Now you just slide down." Harry stated, gesturing to the opened cavern. Tom eyed it sceptically.

"Why don't _you _go first? I've never used this passageway before, and it would be best if you would demonstrate how to use it."

"Okay, then. Wait- aren't you going to change your appearance? I think it would give everyone a heart attack if the saw you walking around, especially with me."

Tom raised an elegant eyebrow. "Really, Harry? I'm not stupid." He proceeded to lift his wand and alter his appearance. His hair was kept the same, but his facial features were made softer, unlike his naturally chiselled features. His eyes were recoloured from a dark brown-grey to a watery blue and his skin colour was changed from pale to a sun kissed olive. He didn't look drastically different from his original self, but nobody would recognise him as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Off you go," Tom said, pushing an unsuspecting Harry into the passage. He heard the boy shriek in shock and allowed himself to smirk wickedly. After a minute or so, Harry found himself in the cellar of Honeydukes. He searched the room for other people, but found it empty. The teenager stuck his head into the tunnel.

"Tom! It's safe to go down!"

He heard his parent's murderer-to-be grumble before he slid down the small passage. He emerged from the opening covered in dust and looking ,overall, greatly dishevelled. With a huff, the Head Boy dusted himself off and smoothed out various parts of his garments. Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. Seeing a supposedly 'perfect' Head Boy and Prefect in such a begrimed state was highly amusing. He stopped himself when he saw the look Tom was aiming at him.

"Shall we go, now?" Tom grumbled, unhappy by the Gryffindor's outburst.

Harry flushed and nodded meekly, following the older male out of the cellar.

The two walked in complete silence until they arrived at their destination. The powerful torrent of wondrous smells, sounds and warmth enveloped them as they made their way inside the pub. Tom turned to face Harry.

"I'll go find a decent table for us. You get the drinks."

Harry made his way to the counter.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. What do you want to order?" The bartender asked, cheerily.

"I'd like a butterbeer and..." Great. Tom didn't even tell him what he wanted. "Just today's special."

He didn't even know the the day's special was. If Tom didn't like it, that was too bad. It was _his _fault for not telling Harry what he wanted.

"Coming right up!" The bartender grinned, getting started on the drinks. After a short while, two drinks were slammed on the counter in front of him. One was a mug full of warm, sweet, heavenly, golden (he could go on forever) butterbeer. The drink next to it, on the other hand, didn't look quite as appetising. The beverage was a mucky green, lumpy sludge which produced bubbles as though it was alive. He swore he saw something move inside the drink. It didn't even look drinkable. _What a shame. Tom had himself to blame for not specifying what he wanted. _

Harry gently lifted the mugs with both hands and looked around the pub in search for the other male. He found Tom waving him over from a dark, isolated corner of the bar. He made his way towards the table and placed the mugs in the centre of the weathered oak. Upon seeing the beverages before him, Tom projected a disgusted expression. The intensity of his expression heightened marginally when Harry lifted his mug of butterbeer to his lips and drank deeply.

"How could you drink that?" He asked, shifting his gaze towards the offending refreshment.

Harry rewarded the questions with a confounded look. "What do you mean? Butterbeer is the best drink ever created!"

"No it's not. It full of sugar and artificial additives. It's a great drink if you're willing to give yourself type 2 diabetes. I much prefer the natural stuff. Thank you, by the way, for choosing this drink for me. It is my favourite." The seventh year gulped his drink quickly and released a breath of contentment."I apologise for not telling you what I wanted, but you purchased the right thing."

Harry had to look away. He couldn't stand watching someone drink that slime. The Boy Who Lived suddenly lost his craving for the glorious beverage before him. All he could feel was the sensation of cold sludge being poured down his throat.

"And how could you drink _that?!" _Harry screeched when he saw the boy opposite him licking the remaining dribbles of his drink from his lips.

"You shouldn't judge something without trying it first. This is quite delicious and does wonders for your health. Would you like me to order one for you?"

Harry shook his head franticly. No way in Hell was he going to drink that!

"Very well then. I believe we arrived here for a reason. May I ask you now?"

The smaller teenager nodded apprehensively, remaining mute.

"Well, as you can tell, I have read the book that you lent me. And to me it seemed quite... _biased_. So, Harry, were you really some sort of infant magic prodigy or did the book over exaggerate the whole ordeal?"

"To be completely honest, I didn't really read the book," Harry admitted. "But from the way you said it, I would believe that it didn't really explain the event realistically."

"Is that so?"

"I'm pretty sure. Would you like me to inform you about what really happened on the 31st of October, 1981?" Harry inquired, ignoring the little part of his mind advising him that this is a very bad idea.

Toms lips twitched in growing excitement.

"That would be excellent."

* * *

Harry lay awake in his bed within the darkened Gryffindor dormitory, contemplating the day's event. Harry was glad that he talked to Tom and that he could think of Tom and Voldemort as two different people. He was pleased that he didn't stutter or tremble like he did when he first met the Slytherin Prefect. He seemed like a decent bloke, even if he paid uncomfortably close attention to Harry and that his eyes happened to flash red for short moments, especially when Harry talked about Voldemort. He was probably just curious about his future self, right? And the red flicker in his eyes were probably just a trick of the light.

But something in Harry, the same part that had tried to steer him away from Riddle, new that something wasn't right. It new that Harry shouldn't have revealed anything to the young Dark Lord.

* * *

**A/N- Yes, I know, I didn't update for a little while. Making long chapters is a lot harder than I thought. Please review what you think of this chapter and the overall story and please give any suggestions and constructive criticism. Thanks :)**


	5. Suspicion

**Disclaimer- I do not own the Harry Potter universe. I'm really getting annoyed that I have to keep reminding you in every single chapter... :P**

* * *

**Chapter 5- Suspicion **

"Good evening, Tom."

"And a good evening to you, _Headmaster,_" Tom returned, masking his bitterness magnificently.

Dumbledore. Tom sneered internally at the name. Out of every decent witch and wizard, _Albus_ _Dumbledore_ was made Headmaster. What had this world come to?

"I am sure that you are aware as to why I called you here," the old coot stated.

"Of course, Headmaster." _Get on with it. The sooner this meeting is over, the better._

"Then, pray, do tell me why you chose to arrive here."

_Him? Chose to arrive here? And who did Dumbles think he was, using that cynical tone to me!?_

_"_Whatever do you mean, sir? I didn't intend to find myself in the year 1995," the Slytherin said. Dumbledore gestured to the boy to continue.

"I was merely patrolling the halls on Prefect Duty- In my original time, mind you- when, out of the blue, I was summoned here coincidentally by Harry Potter," Tom explained.

To his surprise, Dumbledore began to chuckle, a mirthless chuckle, and shook his head slowly, tutting quietly in the process.

"Tom, m'boy, do you honestly think me daft? First, you somehow pressure child- barely younger than yourself- to place harm on himself, as well as others in order to achieve your end and summon you to this present time. And now, you have the nerve to deny it? I know how you work, Tom, and don't you believe for a second that you have me fooled."

"Sir?" That was all Tom could say at the moment. What on Earth was up with the man?

Dumbledore ignored him and continued on with his rant.

"Not only that, but you personally jeopardise Mr Potter by taking him outside of Hogwarts grounds, obviously manipulating him into doing something for you. You are not welcome here, so please do us all a favour and leave. A soon as possible would be best."

"P-Professor, you must be mistaken. I just wished to speak with they boy and decided that The Three Broomsticks was the most suitable place, considering that Harry was in urgent need for a butterbeer. No manipulation involved whatsoever. And in regards to your second statement, I truly do not know how I got here, neither do I know how to return. So it would be great if you could stop assuming such brutish things about me," Tom concluded with a huff.

"You are not to leave my office until you tell me the truth. I can wait here all night if necessary."

"I _am _telling the truth," Tom said, his anger increasing.

Dumbledore rolled his eyes (how puerile!) and brought his hands together, lacing his fingers in an unnerving manner. "Why must you make this so difficult, Tom? I seek only the truth. I just want to know what is going on and what you are up to. Remember what I said when we first met? Lying is not tolerated at Hogwarts. Surely you remember that."

The black-haired boy narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth menacingly. Tom could lie all he wanted, but _no one _had the right to call him a liar. _No one._ Especially Dumbledore. "_Albus Dumbledore_..." Tom started, spitting out the name in disgust. "I am _not _lying."

The old man let out a sigh. "If you wish to do this the hard way, be my guest. Remember, I have all night."

With that said, the Headmaster conjured a tea set and a platter of assorted biscuits and sandwiches. Tom eyed the tea in front of him suspiciously. How did the old chicken think that he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, would fall for this 'act of kindness'? The foods in front of him may be laced with poison or a potion for all he knew!

As if reading his thoughts, Albus said "I assure you, Tom, that no potions or any harmful substances have been added to the items before you. If you wish to starve or not, it is your choice."

Although he was starving, the Slytherin distanced himself from the food and drink, masking his want ably. Unfortunately, his stomach chose that exact moment to signify its presence.

"Ah, Tom. It seems as though your stomach does not agree with you at this present time. Please, do eat something. A sandwich never hurt anybody," Dumbledore stated, his blue eyes twinkling madly.

"I beg to differ, Headmaster. Did you know that in Medieval England, several people choked on bread and cheese while performing the "Ordeal by Corsned', leading to their horrific demise? Also, many people have suffered from various allergies, poisonings and intolerances from eating sandwiches," Tom informed, matter-of-factly.

"Tom, please do shut up," the Headmaster demanded, waving a sandwich in front of the pupil, "And do eat a sandwich, it will do you well. A sip of tea may help you calm down, too."

_Oh the nerve of that man! Ordering me around, telling me what to do._

Despite Tom's earlier reluctance, he cautiously picked up a cup of tea and sniffed it. Normally he would be able to pick out a distinct scent if there was anything harmful added to something, but his olfactory system deemed the cup of tea harmless. He plopped in 2 lumps of sugar. While stirring his beverage, he stared in amazement and slight disgust as he watched the old man drop spoon after spoon of sugar into his tea. He stopped at lump number 13 and started combining the sugar and tea together.

"Are you quite done, sir?"

"Not quite," he said, adding a lemon drop to the mug. "Lemon drops truly do enhance the flavour of any beverage. Care to try?"

"No, thank you."

Tom, internally debating as to whether or not he should drink the tea, decided to take a sip. A very small sip, at that. He was surprised to note that the tea truly _did_ calm him down. Unnaturally so...

"Oh, Tom. My apologies. I may have fibbed about not adding anything to the tea. I have added a calming draught, nothing harmful."

Tom felt as though he should start yelling and maim the man in front of him, but his body failed to comply with his desire. Damn, that must have been a very strong draught.

_How could I not have noticed? I am an expert in every one of my subjects, yet I was unable to pick up anything strange about that tea. What is wrong with me!?_

The whole 'travel to the future' thing must have muddles up his senses.

"Sir, if I do recall correctly, you said that lying is not tolerated at Hogwarts," Tom said, mimicking the older male.

"Ah, but I am the Headmaster. The rules do not apply to me," Dumbledore uttered, rather smugly. One would think that a man at age 114 would be more mature, but Albus Dumbledore certainly proved that statement wrong.

"That was rather rude, if I must say," Tom said, drowsily.

Dumbledore waved him off. "Tom, is there something you wish to tell me now?" He asked suggestively.

"Yes, sir. In fact, I have several things to talk about."

Albus' too-blue eyes lit up, delighted that the teen would finally comply with his demands.

They darkened once again as Tom started speaking.

"Firstly, I was just musing about what a corrupt world this is. I mean- YOU- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbeldore, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Grand Sorcerer- drugging an _innocent _student-"

"-You are hardly innocent, Mr Riddle-"

"-That's beside the point. Under no circumstances is anybody- especially an authority figure- allowed to give a minor (or anyone for that matter) anything without their consent."

Sensing the calming draught wearing off, the Headmaster forcefully poured the remaining tea into the unsuspecting teen's mouth. Tom choked and stuttered, coughing up the majority of the beverage, save for the few dribbles that managed to slither down his throat. The small amount of liquid calmed him dramatically, almost to a state where he could barely sit upright.

"Anything else, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, sneering, with his eyes twinkling manically. Really, that did _not _look normal!

"Mm.." Tom nearly jumped when he realised that he was too relaxed to even speak properly. But, of course, he couldn't. He felt like pile of jelly.

"Why... don'... you...ask...'arry...?" The Slytherin mumbled. He internally cringed at how lame he sounded, but was quite glad that he was only speaking to Ol' Dumbles. No one of great importance.

The Headmaster snorted at the supposed 'ridiculous' statement.

"Ask Harry? Why must I ask _him_? The _victim _in this situation."

Tom sighed. "Becau'e... he...wa'...the...one...who...brough'...me...'ere. He... 'an...tell...you...the...full...s'ory."

"Fine," Albus grumbled. Although not completely convinced, he wrote a letter on a piece of scrap parchment and called over his owl. When the owl flew over to him, Dumbledore scratched its neck and attached the letter to its foot.

"Send this to Harry Potter."

The owl hooted in response and flew out of the room. As soon as it left, the two occupants of the office openly glared at each other. Dumbledore had a daunting smirk playing on his lips, as though he knew how the night was going to play out.

"And now... we wait."

* * *

Harry was digging into his dinner while his friends were chatting about. He didn't feel like speaking, so he just ate his meal in silence while dwelling on his own thoughts. However, he was disturbed from his brooding when his shoulders were suddenly grabbed and shaken in an extravagantly harsh manner.

"What!?" Harry hissed.

"Harry, look, an owl!" Hermoine exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Wow, I've never seen one before. It's definitely not like we see fifty each day," Harry deadpanned without raising his head.

Hermione scowled, "Well, I think it's Dumbeldore's. And it looks like it's headed for you."

A moment later, Harry looked up and found the bird hovering beside him. Harry ripped off a chunk of Yorkshire Pudding and presented it to the bird. The owl looked at the offending pudding in disgust and dove into Harry's plate and started ripping the roast beef to shreds, literally inhaling the meat like a ravenous wolf. Harry and all the confounded Gryffindors around him watched the carnivorous owl's unorthodox behaviour. The Gryffindor decided to quickly rip the letter off the owl's leg as it started rolling around in his once-edible onion gravy. After all, he didn't want the Headmaster's letter smothered in the brown substance.

Harry scanned through the brief letter and gulped.

"So, what does it say?" Ronald asked, impatiently.

"It's Dumbledore. He wants me in his office," he replied, discomfort clearly shown on his face.

"Mate, you've been to his office loads of times. Why do you look so pale?"

"...Riddle's there, too. This can't be good."

Ron expressed a look of sympathy and patted his friend's shoulder.

"It's alright. Just remember, if Dumbledore's there, he can't hurt you. Or kill you. Or anything. Dumbledore is the greatest sorcerer in Britian, if not the world, so you'd be safe with him of all people."

Harry smiled nervously. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

He bade his friends goodbye and made his way to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

"Come in, Harry."

The fifth year opened the large doors and stepped inside. It surprised him to find Tom Riddle strewn sluggishly on a chair. He seemed to be of the 'refined', 'decorous' sort and 'refined, 'decorous' people weren't supposed to be so flaccidly seated.

"Take a seat, M'boy," Dumbledore offered, ever grandfatherly.

Harry did as he was told and observe the room, before his eyes landed on the other teen once again.

"What happened to him?" He asked curiously, gesturing to the Slytherin.

"Oh, him. Well, let's just say he's feeling a little under the weather."

At this comment, Tom's face distorted slightly, as though he was trying to scowl but couldn't get his muscles to do so.

Harry reached his foot over and poked Tom on the knee with it. He expected the boy to glare at him or at least move away, but his knee just flopped back into position as Harry removed his foot. How peculiar.

"Under the weather, you say?" Harry asked, feeling quite wary.

"Never mind him, Harry. I did not call you here to discuss Mr. Riddle's state of health," Dumbledore said.

"I'm aware of that. So why did you call me here?"

"I want you to tell me everything that happened two days ago. Tom here claims that you summoned him here. Honestly, the lengths that Tom would go to to get his end of things. What a bizarre statement from such a normally composed man," Dumbledore snorted slightly to further emphasise the absurdity of Riddle's assert.

"But, sir, I _did _summon him here."

"Don't be ridiculous now, Harry. Why on earth would you summon a monster like him?" The elderly man snapped.

Harry was slightly taken aback with the Headmaster's grating tone. Normally, the man was calm in all situations.

"It wasn't intentional. I just followed one of Ron's brilliant ideas and got us into this mess. I didn't mean for it to happen," Harry bashfully admitted.

Dumbledore didn't seem satisfied with his answer. Not satisfied at all.

"Harry, M'boy, have a glass of tea, will you? A sandwich as well, if you please."

* * *

**A/N- Boring chapter is boring. Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any suggestions for this story or if you pick out any grammatical/spelling errors, feel free to tell me.**

**And if you're wondering why Dumbledore didn't just give Veritaserumto Tom, it is because it's illegal (or so I've heard) in the Wizarding World to do so, whilst a calming draught isn't. So is legilimency.**


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